


Fallout: Wild Wasteland

by CommonwealthCharlie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 16:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonwealthCharlie/pseuds/CommonwealthCharlie
Summary: Juliette Ward knew nothing but the rough life of Freeside. She always dreamed of leaving Freeside to explore the Mojave. One fateful night changes her life forever when she meets a mysterious man known as the Courier. After her inn is destroyed, she has nothing to lose and joins him as he travels across the Mojave to figure out his own history, while Juliette creates her own. Along the way they will encounter many new friends, foes, and oddities, but one thing is certain; their lives will never be the same, or normal, ever again.





	Fallout: Wild Wasteland

“Listen, lady, we want a room. You got extra rooms, yeah? You want them rooms filled, yeah? Well, we got caps. You like caps? Everybody likes caps. So either you give us the room on a discount, or you don’t get no caps.”

It was the same old song and dance, a routine that I had heard many times before. The people of Freeside were poor, and I knew that. Hell, I _lived_ that. But did that mean I let them stay there for free, let them crash the inn just because I understood them? No. _Hell_ no. Maybe my mother would do that, but she wasn’t here now. It was up to me, and I always stood my ground.

“The rate is 20 caps, and that’s that. I’m sorry, but I can’t go—“

The filthy mongrels across the counter smirked, and the one in front even snarled, a satisfied chuckle slipping from between his cracked lips.

“’Oh, sirs, but it’s 20 caps, I can’t break the rules, momma wouldn’t be happy.’ Hear that, boys? Sounds like we got ourselves a regular goodie two-shoes here. Well, word on the street is your momma ain’t around no more, babydoll. Little birdy tells me daddy ain’t neither. So, where’s that leave you? A lone chickadee in the grass, waitin’ for a snake to come along and getcha. Y’here what I’m sayin’, chickadee?”

My heart was racing, but I was dead set on standing my ground. I was strong. I knew I would stand my ground. I had to, for mom. For dad. For _myself_. That was, until I saw the gun the man withdrew from his belt as he finished speaking those words. I looked from him to the barrel of the gun, my vision narrowing a bit, before I looked back to him. I could feel my façade shattering every moment.

“N-No, no… l-look, I’m not looking for trouble, okay. I guess I can… how’s 15 caps? C-Can you do 15?”

“Ah, now you’re talkin’ my language, chickadee. Oh, but, ah, me little friend here thinks that’s still a little steep for this shithole. Make it 10 caps or me and my payin’ buddies walk. With, y’know, a nice little birdie as our… _souvenir_.”

Damn. Normally this worked; normally, I could talk a hydro dealer into buying his own shit. But for some reason these guys scared the hell out of me. My palms were sweaty, and as I nodded and reached for the keys I knew that I had lost. I set two keys on the counter, and the leader quickly snatched them up.

“Now that’s more like it. See, chickadee? Ain’t so hard to get along. Just remember this the next time someone bigger than you comes along lookin’ to negotiate. You ain’t shit, little girl.”

His breath smelled terribly of cheap vodka and they were coated in plaque. Well, the ones he had, anyway. He leaned in closer to me as he spoke, and when he saw me inch backwards he just chuckled and shook his head, turning away and heading towards the stairs.

“Pay her, boys. 10 caps, that’s the deal. Maybe little birdie can buy her some bubblegum now.”

And, although I got my 10 caps and they were out of the lobby not even a minute later, their voices haunted me all throughout the night. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and disgusted. Had my father been there, I might’ve even been dead.

That night I didn’t sleep much. Between other guests coming down to complain about the noise or the noise itself keeping me up, I just didn’t get much of an opportunity. So when the sunlight came in through the shutters, I felt more defeated than the night prior. All that morning I stood at the front counter – or, more accurately, leaned against the front counter – with a mug of coffee sat in front of me. Coffee was expensive, so I tried not to make it much. This, though? This was cause for coffee. Coffee spiked with a _lot_ of whiskey.

I’m just joking, I don’t drink. Never have. Just a habit I picked up from my mom, I guess.

The men left the inn around mid-afternoon that day. When they walked out the doors I nearly fell onto the counter, relief just taking over my body. I felt like I could breathe again, felt almost free. But I knew that there would be more of them soon. Being in Freeside meant that people like them lurked around every corner. Sure, there were plenty of decent people. Sad fact was, though, those decent people didn’t really last too long in Freeside. They either turned into drunks, drug addicts, prostitutes, squatters, or, if they were exceptionally lucky, moved on to the Strip.

That had been my dream, after all. My parents came to Freeside when they were young. My father nearly slipped into a bad chem habit, but my mom convinced him to save his caps and, together, they bought out the old Acme building behind the Old Mormon Fort. It was a wreck, but they fixed it up and after about a month of downtime they opened the building as the Starlight Inn. The first weeks were rough, as my mom tells me, because they weren’t prepared for all the swindlers and thugs. My dad fended them off, but after he got shot one day during an exceptionally nasty brawl my mom hired a pair of mercenaries to watch over the inn at all hours. It was costly, but they made it work.

That’s what my mom told me, anyway. Every time I tried to ask my dad about it he shooed me away. I like to believe the stories, though; they’re all I have left now.

I was in a daydream when a man walked into the inn. Startled, I turned sharply towards the entrance and looked him over. I will admit, at first glance he was a bit intimidating. He was tall, buff, and had a scar across his forehead that made him look menacing. He wore a bandana over his head, an old worn ball cap turned backwards overtop of it. He made his way up to the counter and dropped 20 caps on it, just looking at me. Without a word he nodded, I nodded back, handed him a key, and he made his way upstairs to the rooms.

That was the first time I ever saw the Courier.

For most of the day things were calm and peaceful. Sometimes this was the case. Sometimes it was absolute hell. I washed some soiled sheets, shooed away some giant rats from the dumpsters out back, and listened to Radio New Vegas while tidying up the lobby. For the most part, the day was nice.

It was around late afternoon, early evening when the Courier emerged again. I was sitting behind the front desk reading the same Tæles of Chivalrie issue that’d been there since I was little. The radio still played in the background, and having not had much interaction throughout the day, I didn’t even notice him walk up to the counter. I don’t know how long he stood there, as he didn’t get my attention until he knocked on the counter. Startled, I tossed the magazine down and looked up at him.

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry, sir, so sorry. What can I do for you?”

He looked me over for a few moments before sliding 20 caps across the counter. I looked down at them, then turned my attention back to him. I noticed for the first time that the scar on his forehead trailed down to his left eye, and that eye was a bit cloudy. Still, his eyes were a bright, piercing blue, but in a strange way he also seemed… gentle.

“Wanna renew for another night. That okay?”

His voice was low, but not gruff; he sounded almost confused in a way. When I’d first seen him I pegged him as a typical mercenary or caravan runner; weathered, seasoned, and just there in passing. But as he spoke and I looked back at those blue eyes I saw a look of loss.

I paused a bit longer than I’d intended before replying to him, so when I realized I’d been awkwardly staring back at him I cleared my throat and nodded, smiling. Awkwardly. Of course.

“Oh, sure. Thank you, sir. We actually have a 5 cap discount if you renew.”

The man looked down at the 20 caps on the table for a few moments before looking back up at me. He nodded to me, beginning to turn towards the door.

“That’s alright, you can keep it. Buy yourself something nice… maybe a new magazine.”

As he walked away I looked down to the caps on the counter, thinking about what I’d just been witness to. Sure, I saw many people each day. A lot of different, strange people. But him? From that moment I knew he was different, something special. With a warm smile on my face I scooped up the caps off the counter and looked over to the front door where he was just leaving.

After pausing for maybe a minute to gather my thoughts, I decided I would take him up on that suggestion. I finished tidying up and went back to my room, brushing my hair and pulling it up into a ponytail with a light blue ribbon. I switched out my ratty old uniform for a day dress; a beautiful, albeit a bit dirty, blue knee-length dress my mother passed down to me shortly before she died. Slipping into some heels and gathering up my purse, I left the inn and headed down the street towards Mick & Ralph’s.

It was beginning to get dark by that point. Sure, it never truly got dark thanks to all the lights around Freeside and the nearby Strip, but it got dark enough. As I walked I pulled my purse close to my side, the feeling that someone was watching me strong in my mind. I made it to the shop without issue, although a drunk did try and stop me before I made it there.

“Ah, Miss Ward. What brings you here tonight? Another sensor module blow?”

It was Ralph, who spoke to me just as I’d walked in the door. I shot him a smirk and rolled my eyes. We knew fairly well of each other, as I had visited him on many occasions for a new sensor module when the one in any of my dad’s hodgepodge inventions blew. Although I would say we were on good terms, I still didn’t like to be around him too long. Something about him and Mick made me feel almost uneasy.

“No, not this time. Give the front desk terminal about another week and I’m sure I’ll come back in.”

We shared a light chuckle as I approached the desk he was sitting at.

“No, no, I, um… I was actually wondering if you had any magazines in. I’m a bit tired of reading the same old ones back at the inn.”

Ralph looked back at me with a confused but smug look for a few moments. The uneasy feeling definitely started to rise. He chuckled and got up from his desk, though, waving for me to follow him towards the back of the store.

“Just so happens that we got a few in from some passing travelers the other day. We don’t see these too often, you know. Old World books aren’t exactly a common item.”

“Yes, well, that would be why I’ve had the same one sitting at the front desk with me for the past three years. We don’t exactly make much to be spending caps on frivolous goods, either.”

I heard Ralph snort at my comment. I furrowed my brow a bit in frustration, feeling as though he’d just snidely made a remark on how poor I was. After a moment, though, I dropped it all together. ‘Pick your battles, Jules. You can’t fight everyone on everything and always expect to win.’ Something my dad used to tell me when I’d argue with him about…. well, everything, really.

We came up on a rack near the back of the store that held a collection of books and magazines, all ranging in quality from half burned to just a little torn. There wasn’t anything in pristine condition, but, hell, I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford anything that “new” anyway.

“Well, here you go. Looks like we’ve got a waterlogged Locksmith’s Reader, a pretty badly beaten up Patriot’s Cookbook, and a Meeting People that’s just got a couple pages missing. Anything fit your fancy?”

I looked them over for a few moments before settling on the Meeting People. Learning about padlocks and guns didn’t exactly interest me. Working in the inn, I knew that learning how to better interact with people would really help me out. And the run-in the night prior with those guys that swindled me kind of influenced the choice a bit, too.

I paid for the magazine with nearly all the surplus caps I had and left the store. The magazine tucked into my purse, I walked casually down the street back towards the inn. I made it around the corner from Mick & Ralph’s when out of nowhere a hand reached up and wrapped around my face, the barrel of a gun pointed at my back.

“Don’t say a fuckin’ thing!”

The voice was that of a man, and I obliged him. He pulled me off the street and into the overhang of a destroyed building. He spun me around and pushed me up against the wall, his body pressed against mine. I felt the barrel of the gun move up against the side of my skull, and I began to shake out of fear. My breath got short as he stared at me, bloodshot eyes looking back at mine.

“I saw you come out of that store back there, bet you got some real good shit. Pretty little thing like you probably gets all she wants. Well you see, people like me, we ain’t so lucky. We gotta get shit in other ways. You see?”

Even though he wasn’t holding onto me anymore, his body pressed against mine was enough to keep me from trying to move. As he reached up and yanked my purse from my shoulder I just jumped a bit, panting heavily as I tried to catch my breath and not start crying out of fear. He turned my purse over and dumped everything inside out on the ground, tossing it aside once it was emptied. He moved away from me, but kept the gun pointed at me.

“Don’t. Move.”

I nodded back in agreement, still trying desperately to stop shaking and not pass out. I watched as he pocketed what caps I had left over, along with the magazine I’d just bought and some other items I had. When he found an old package of Mentats that I’d been saving, he looked it over slowly, then stood up and got closer to me. He smiled wide, holding up the tin and shaking it in front of my face.

“Didn’t peg you for a druggie, but I’m sure glad I stopped you.”

That’s the last thing he said before he pocketed the tin and started to run down the street. As I watched him run I felt only a tiny bit of relief, knowing that something like this would happen again. I would get to the point where I felt like things might be going okay, only to nearly get killed and lose everything. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the wall for just a second, taking in a deep breath. I grabbed my purse, picked up the last few things the mugger left behind, and started on my way back towards the inn once more.

I made it just a few yards down the street before I started to cry. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I suppose it was just because of the stress of everything. I knew it was stupid, and I knew the last thing I wanted at that point was to be alone outside at night crying. I’d been standing there in the middle of the street for a little while when a familiar voice called out to me.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

I quickly wiped the tears from my eye and looked around for the source of the voices my eyes falling on the man from earlier, the strange one from the hotel. He stood maybe two yards from me and in the darkness I could just make out the look on his face. He seemed concerned. I smiled weakly and nodded, quickly wiping at my eyes again.

“Oh, yes, yeah. I’m fine. Just, uh… was just thinking about… stuff. Thanks, though.”

He stood there for a moment before taking a few steps closer. My body tensed up automatically, my mind racing back to what had happened moments before. He seemed to sense that discomfort and stopped moving closer to me.

“Pardon me for intruding, but you don’t seem fine. I won’t pry, but you do look like you could use a drink, maybe some friendly company. What do you say we head over to the Wrangler?”

I knew I should say no. Considering what I had just been through, the thought of going anywhere with some strange man, especially to a seedy bar, seemed like an absolutely stupid idea. I knew I should just go back to the inn, settle down for the night, and relax. But I was prone to stupid choices, and truthfully, a drink sounded fantastic.

“I, um… you know, I would really love to, but I… well, I just don’t have the caps.”

He looked back at me, his brow furrowing a bit, but he just smiled and held out his hand towards me.

“Drinks are on me. Now, will you join me?”

This was a foolish idea, I knew it, but with a deep breath I reached out and placed my hand in his, and together we made our way across Freeside to the Atomic Wrangler.

The bar was much different than I remembered it being. I had been there only twice before, and both times I was absolutely appalled by what I saw. Now, though, it seemed the Garrets had taken the time to update things a bit. It wasn’t quite as bad, and my companion made things seem much less troublesome. We’d been there nearly an hour before I’d finished my first beer. As I took the last sip he looked over at me, smiling.

“Another?”

I looked back at him and nodded, not really thinking about it. He smirked and turned his attention to Francine Garret, who walked off to grab the beer. As I dug around in my purse to see if I had something to use as a hair tie, as my ribbon had fallen out when I’d gotten mugged, he asked me a question I knew would come up at some point.

“So, those caps I left you earlier, you spend them on a treat for yourself I take it?”

I knew I should be honest with him about what happened, but I decided to play it off. I just smirked back, finding an old shoelace in my purse. Sitting my purse back on the counter, I started to put my hair up again as I glanced back over at him.

“You could say that. Thank you, by the way.”

He smiled and nodded, and I matched his smile. When my beer arrived I picked it up and looked over the chilled bottle, noticing it had a label. I had never seen a beer bottle that had an actual label on it since it was so expensive. I raised an eyebrow and looked over at the man, who just smirked and turned his attention to his own bottle, taking a big swig. I felt guilty because I knew how much it had to cost, but I wasn’t going to make a scene or pass it up. And, even though I had no tolerance for alcohol what so ever, I took a drink.

Coughing a bit from the horribly strong taste, I set the bottle down and covered my mouth. He chuckled, to which I just glared back.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I know you’re not a Freeside native.”

It took him a few moments to say anything, and for a moment I’d thought I’d asked something inappropriate.

“I’m a courier. It’s a long story, but I’ll shorten it by saying I woke up in a ditch over in Goodsprings about two weeks ago, found out I was shot in the head and left for dead because some guy in a suit wanted what I was carrying. With the help of a robot I found out he’s here, in New Vegas, and I want it back. So that’s why I’m here, get vengeance on the man that tried to kill me and finish my delivery.”

Although it seemed so bizarre, what he said made sense. It explained the scar on his forehead and why he always wore that hat and bandana. It’d also explain why he acted so strangely, like he was always confused; he likely had amnesia from before he was shot. I cleared my throat before I said anything, so many questions filling my mind.

“I’m sorry. That sounds… terrible. … So, I’m assuming he’s on the Strip, then. You made it in there?”

He took another chug off his drink, then just looked down at the bottle.

“Nah. Don’t really have the courage, I don’t think. Yeah, I’m pissed the guy tried to kill me. But to meet him? That’s just… I don’t know. So I think I’m gonna head back to Primm, see if they can tell me anymore about who I am. That’s where the Mojave Express is. It’s the company I got the job from. Then maybe after I figure out myself I’ll know what I really want to do.”

It was noble, and I definitely understood where he was coming from.

“I’ve always wanted to see what was out there. I’ve never been outside Freeside, lived here all my life. I mean, I’m sure it’s a hellhole out there from what I’ve heard.”

He looked back over at me and smiled.

“Why don’t you come with me, then?”

I hadn’t expected him to propose that. I looked back at him, wide-eyed, not knowing what to say. I nervously declined the offer, and after we spent about another hour there we left. The thought lingered in the back of my mind most of the night, but we ultimately started to walk back to the inn together without bringing it up again.

I don’t know why I didn’t notice what was going on before I did. I suppose it was the booze messing with my mind, and the attention that I was giving my companion. As we walked back towards the inn we laughed and joked, focusing our attention on each other. It wasn’t until we were but a block from the inn that I realized something was wrong. As I turned my attention towards the inn, my eyes grew wide and I fell instantly to my knees. I began to go into shock, and I couldn’t move.

Flames blazed out of the inn windows, smoke billowing up into the night sky. Guests and Freesiders alike stood around outside, watching the chaos. Voices echoed all around, their noise mixing fervently with the crackling of my livelihood burning to the ground before my eyes. Tears began to stream down my face, my mouth slightly ajar, but I did not cry out. I couldn’t.

Eventually I realized that the man I was with had his hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly. As I started to come back to, I looked slowly up to him, the tears in my eyes blurring my vision. But I could still make out the look on his face, that of fear, anguish, and concern. The look of someone who also knew loss.

“I’m so sorry, miss. I’m so sorry.”

I nod lightly, starting to register what he was saying, and what was going on. I began to push myself to my feet, and felt him grab my arm and help me up. I leaned on him a bit for support, keeping my eyes fixated on the burning inn. I felt so many emotions, so many feelings, and yet absolutely nothing all at the same time. After a few moments, I turned back to look at him, tears still in my eyes.

“What’s your name?”

He looks back to me, that same look of confusion on his face that he’d had when I’d first met him. He stared back at me for a few moments before answering.

“It’s… Walker. I think.”

I once again nod slowly, looking back to the inn. More people had arrived by that point, but no one was trying to put out the flames. I couldn’t blame them; it wouldn’t do them any good. Everything was already gone.

“Well, Walker… is your offer still on the table?”

I look back to him, and he looks back at me. We stare at each other for a few moments, the heat of the fire beginning to finally pull my from the shock I was in.

“That depends, miss. Can I get your name?”

He smiles lightly, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Juliette. But… you can call me Jules.”

He nods to me, and looks back towards the inn. I follow his gaze, and as we stand there, the light of the flames licking our bodies in the dull night, my entire life changed once again.

“Welcome to the wasteland, Jules.”


End file.
